It wasn’t as if Jacob Seymour had ever held any faith in his youngest son. The very notion of him needing Cyrus for anything seemed far-fetched. But here that failure of a son was. Alive. Human.

But for how long? “I take it you’re going to change me back?”

She shook her head. “Nope.”

That didn’t surprise him. “He probably expects me to earn it. Father always did have a flair for the dramatic. Who’s coming to get me?”

“Don’t know yet.” She took a long draw off her cigarette. “We’re waiting for word.”

“I can’t wait much longer. I’m almost out of food down here.” He carefully kept the “we” out of his statement. Though companionable enough, this woman had accepted money to raise the dead. She was dangerous, and definitely not someone he wanted to further expose Mouse to.

Angie nodded. “It’ll be taken care of.”

“Good.” He rose. “I take it we’re through here?”

She smiled. The expression was monstrous on her warped face as she stood, as well. “But before I go…”

She pulled an envelope from her leather vest, offering it to him. Frowning, Cyrus lifted the flap and pulled out the contents.

Polaroids. Of him and Mouse lying side by side on the narrow bed the night before. His arm curled protectively around her slender shoulders, his head resting against the curve of her neck.

“Glad to see you’re getting on so well down here.” Angie’s face morphed back to its human form. She looked better as a vampire.

His mouth dry, Cyrus slipped the photographs into his pocket. He said nothing, but he knew what they meant. The Fangs knew he valued Mouse. That knowledge was a formidable weapon, one he hadn’t even known the existence of until he saw it with his own eyes. They could hurt her, to test him, to force him to cooperate, for no reason other than because it would be fun to torture him.

“It helps to know what we’ve got for bargaining material. Don’t you think?” Angie stubbed out her cigarette on the plastic tabletop.

His mouth dry, Cyrus nodded. “I suppose it does.”

He had to take a few steps toward the door before he could regain some of the confidence she’d shaken from him. When he did, he stopped and faced her. “Remember, I’ve got bargaining material, as well. I need her. I’m still too weak to care for myself.” A lie, but an easy one to tell. “If she dies, I die, and you lose your money.”

“Repaying your father’s money would be the least of my worries.” Angie folded her arms over her chest. “Besides, I could always just raise you again.”